


Early Morning

by prettyvk



Series: Ink Your Name 'verse [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 09:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyvk/pseuds/prettyvk
Summary: The morning after their wedding





	Early Morning

**Author's Note:**

> For starrla89, and everyone who still enjoys this little verse after so much time has passed.
> 
>  ~~Merry Xm~~... oops, too late for that. Happy New Year, then <3

Sherlock fell asleep just as the early morning traffic started rumbling out in the street, right after their third time of the night. In truth, John was surprised he’d lasted that long. They’d kept their wedding pretty low-key, but even so there had been some preparations to make – including a waltz Sherlock kept tweaking until he finally recorded himself playing it, and the ensuing accelerated dancing lessons.

Six days awake. Just this once, John allowed it without berating Sherlock, though he did keep a very close eye on him. It was possible he’d missed the signs – Sherlock was as good as ever at acting – but he didn’t think Moriarty’s shadow had intruded on their nuptials.

With light slowly creeping into their room despite the drawn curtains, John found himself unable to let sleep take him. As he rested on his side, his face mere centimeters from Sherlock’s, his eyes drifted over the familiar features as though they were brand new again. And in a way, they were. The man in front of him was the same man he’d met one fateful day at Bart’s, the same man he’d mourned, the same man he’d fallen in love with, bit by bit, without even realizing what was happening. But it was also a brand new man: now, John would call him ‘my husband.’

_My husband the consulting detective. My husband the composer. My husband the genius. My husband, who won’t remember we’re married the next time he opens his eyes._

After six days, Sherlock was as likely to sleep for twenty hours straight as he was to wake up after only an hour or two. And whenever he did wake, John intended to be right there, in front of him, just so he could say—

Sherlock’s pupils moved behind his eyelids. His eyelashes quivered, butterfly wings preparing to unfurl. John’s breath caught in his throat and he held very still.

When Sherlock’s eyes opened, they were darker than usual; a trick of the light, John was sure, but he instantly longed to bring back the light within them. And to erase the slowly deepening frown darkening them even more.

“John?” Sherlock said, his voice low, rough, and full of endless questions.

John didn’t want to answer them now. He’d do it every day for the rest of his life, and happily if it meant he got to share those days with Sherlock, but right now Sherlock needed to sleep, not to rediscover knowledge he’d forget again all too soon.

Reaching for Sherlock’s hand, half buried under the pillow, John gently drew it up until the ring on Sherlock’s finger was clearly visible.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked softly.

Sherlock blinked several times, and licked his lips before answering, a slight tremor creeping up in his words.

“A wedding ring.”

John liked that, despite his obvious confusion, Sherlock didn’t make the words a question. He smiled.

“It is.”

Next, he showed Sherlock the matching band on his own hand. Sherlock blinked again, and this time his eyes seemed to gleam just a tad more.

“It’s been a long day,” John said, still as quietly, reaching out to brush a finger against Sherlock’s cheekbone. “And an even longer night. You need to rest now. I’ll be there when you wake up, and I’ll explain everything you want me to explain. All right?”

He could see on Sherlock’s expression that this was less than ‘all right,’ that he wanted answers, and he wanted them now. But he could also read, all too plainly, the bone-deep tiredness that had stopped him from even sitting up. And he could see something that, after so many confused awakenings, he’d learned to recognize for what it was: the simple yet profound trust Sherlock placed in him.

“You’ll be there?” Sherlock repeated, sounding of all things like a child begging for a promise.

“I’ll be there, love. Close your eyes. Sleep.”

After another second or two, Sherlock’s eyelids drifted shut – though not before his hand had found John’s in the small space between their bodies, and tentatively rested on top of it. His breaths evened out right away; asleep again.

John shifted his hand from under Sherlock’s, entwining their fingers. He closed his eyes too, but sleep refused to come, and soon he was back to staring at Sherlock. He wasn’t going anywhere.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Early Morning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224199) by [bagofthumbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagofthumbs/pseuds/bagofthumbs)




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